


Big Game Hunting.

by Hidn



Series: Tank Treads and Empty Heads [3]
Category: Project Wingman (Video Game)
Genre: Tankers (Ew.)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:40:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hidn/pseuds/Hidn
Summary: Jerk takes a hands-on seminar with Fitz.
Relationships: no. - Relationship
Series: Tank Treads and Empty Heads [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190561
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Big Game Hunting.

The rain really put a damper on things. Jerk couldn't even light his cigarette - but it's not like he could've anyway. Some bullshit about "giving away our position" and "stupid fucking idea around explosives." 

The wind blew a soggy leaf into his helmet. At this point, he didn't care. He'd been hiding in this bush for 2 goddamn hours now. This is not how Kirk had sold "a hands-on seminar with Ronin's AT." Jerk was a gunner for a reason, and that was not for the waiting. 

Jerk wormed his arm to his hip. There was some important gear there - First Aid, Sidearm, Ammo, Grenades - but that wasn't what he wanted. He shoved his hand into one of his disorganized pockets, grabbing a slowly disintegrating cardboard box. The lid was stuck down from the water that permeated it. Jerk ripped off the lid and pulled out a folded, soaked cigarette.

"Hey! No Smoking!" Ronin's Anti-Tank specialist, Fitz, whispered angrily. 

"Oi, chill man. No smoke, I got it." Jerk kept his voice low, despite having not seen another living being for an hour and a half. 

"Fuck you mean 'no smoke' dude? You're holding a cig!" 

Jerk quickly opened his mouth and threw the cigarette in. He chomped down and began to chew.

"Nah man, don't know what you're on about." 

"The fuck, dude?" Fitz looked incredulous, but Jerk just sat there silently. Chewing. The cigarette was cold, wet, and tasted terrible. Still, it was something to do. They sat there for a while longer. Fitz was staring adamantly out of the bush, looking for any evidence of a vehicle. Jerk took the binoculars he had and looked through them. There wasn’t much to look at. A dirt road, and some foliage. 

The radio earpieces that Fitz had insisted on buzzed on.

“Hey Fitz, I got eyes on that convoy. Looks like they’re takin it real slowlike. Trying not to get bogged down it looks like. Reminds me of the time-”

“Roger, got it. Thanks Crunch, out.” Fitz cut off the radio. He put down the massive gun-looking thing he had brought, and began to stand up.

“Right, then. Let’s stretch our legs. Grab that bag for me, will you?” He pointed to a backpack that had been laid next to Jerk. Like the two men in the bush, it was soaked. Jerk grabbed it, it’s contents clinking together. As he lifted it to hand it over, Fitz walked out into the road. 

“So, Tank boy, what’s the best way to take out a convoy?” Fitz asked.

“Well, the most basic tactic is to whack the lead vehicle, then hit the last vehicle.” 

“That’s right! Now, what do you know about Feddie convoys?” 

“What, this some sorta test?”

“Absolutely.”

“Feddie convoys are just like any other convoy. Point vehicle, lights in the middle, heavies in the back.” Jerk shrugged.

“Wrong! Feddies have a specific plan for it. Armoured Convoy Vehicle Order Doctrine 213. Feddies love their doctrines - you read their books, you can predict their moves before they can. I got a few of those back at base, you can borrow them when we’re done. 

Anyway, Feddies always, Always, put the Heavies at the front. Three vehicles down, you got the commander. Mediums and Lights go in the middle, and they cap it off with a single heavy.” Fitz started off on his spiel. He spoke with such enthusiasm that it caught Jerk of guard. 

“So, tell me, what’s the Feddie Armour’s bread-and-butter?” 

“That’d be the M/B-1A1 Tank. Abrams. Well made, high survivability, good armour.” Jerk had taken some of those on before. Not fun to fight, especially in a Sheridan.

“Right on! Now, you play in tanks a lot. What’s your biggest threat inside the tank?”

“Inside? Apart from dipshit crewmates, the Ammo cooking off.”

"So that’s the bullseye. Hit the ammo, and the tank’s gone. Here, hand me that bag.” Fitz reached out for the bag that Jerk was holding, and Jerk gave it to him. Fitz rustled around in the bag for a moment, and then pulled out a small green box.

“Seen these before?” He asked, holding it up. 

“Can’t say I have, to be honest.” Jerk replied. Fitz handed the box to Jerk. It was quite heavy for its size, and felt solid. It was mostly circular, with a boxy base at one end. 

“It’s a Slam. Light multipurpose mine, and real fun. See that circle?” Fitz said, pointing to the top of the mine. “Magnetic trigger. Perfect against vehicles, and dirt doesn’t disrupt it. Tanks and trucks will set it off, and if you’re feeling particularly devilish, steel-toed boots.” Fitz had a massive grin on his face, and described the mine as if it were a toy. “They have IR triggers, timers, and can be detonated manually. Wonderful little things.” He stood, and pulled two E-tools out of the bag. “Use this, and bury a Slam every 30 feet. Don’t worry, I already primed them.”

“Oh, neat.” Holding a primed Anti-Tank mine was, as far as Jerk was concerned, not neat. 

“So, back to the Ammo. Where does the Abrams store it?”

“Dude, I’m not a tank mechanic. I blow them up.” 

“You should know where you’re shooting, chucklenuts.” Fitz pointed at him. Jerk noticed that he gesticulated often in his speech, and it was quite strange to watch someone illustrate shooting a tank while holding live explosives.

“Abrams store their ammo in blowout ammo racks at the back of the turret. Hit those, the crew will be fine. Minus the one in the chamber, it is reduced to its MG if the crew doesn’t dismount. But, But! Feddies love doctrine. Armour convoys are for vehicle transport, and as far as the Feddies think, this is friendly territory. So these tanks will be at maximum ammo capacity. That means one crucial detail.” Jerk was placing his second mine, and it looked like Fitz was on his fourth or fifth. That, however, was likely due to Jerk’s completely reasonable fear of high explosives. 

“Down in the bottom, there’s a spot that's used for MG ammo in combat. But since these things are full, 'Ammunition storage within the M/B-1A1 Battle Tank for purposes of Transportation in Friendly territory 889' states that three cannon rounds should be placed there. And Feddies always follow doctrine, you see?”

The radio buzzed to life again, cutting Fitz off as he opened his mouth again.

“Hey Fitz. Convoy will be there real soon. Looks like they’re picking up speed again.” 

“Roger. Returning to ambush location.” Jerk kicked the last piece of mud over the mine, and headed back for the bush. At this point, with the mud and leaves that had stuck to him, he probably looked like one. He settled back down into his spot, which was once again cold and wet. 

It was a good thing they had overwatch. Only a few minutes after they hid, Jerk heard the sound of engines. 

“Right, so we’re going to try and hit those three rounds.” Fitz was back to whispering. He had taken his monstrosity that looked relatively gun-shaped and was setting it on a bipod. “Those rounds are held a little above the third road wheel. That’s where we want to hit. When the Lead tank passes over the last mine, they’ll all go off at once. Most of them should go down from the mines, but I'd grab your rifle.” The rifle was originally leaning on the bag that contained the mines, and was now laying flat in the mud.

"Against a tank?” 

“Against crew.” 

At that moment, the first Feddie tank rolled into view. Just as expected, it was an M/B-1A1. It thundered down the path, followed by several more. The third, as Fitz said, had the Commander markings on the back of the turret. A few transport trucks rolled into view, and just as the final M/B-1A1 was visible, the first tank crossed over the final mine.   
In a single moment, several vehicles exploded. The characteristic sound of rounds cooking off began immediately. Fitz fired his rifle, causing another tank to detonate. The transports quickly veered off of the path. One hit a tree, crashed. The crew of the trucks bailed out, running for the trees. 

Jerk squeezed off a few bursts of his rifle, though it was unlikely he hit anything. He wasn’t a particularly good shot with his own guns. The Final tank hit the brakes, its tracks locking and drifting through the mud. The machine gun began to fire, spraying wildly into the trees. Fitz fired again, and the gun was silenced. The top hatches opened, and its crew ran for their lives. The whole engagement lasted less than a minute.

“Hell Yeah! Now that’s efficiency! Smell that sulphur!” Fitz cheered. He stood, his arms up like a champion, basking in his success. Jerk was grinning, ear to ear. 

Now this is what he signed up for.


End file.
